


Steddie - "I thought you were dead."

by ChaoticallyWriting



Series: Tumblr Requests [4]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, This is sort of an AU but what exactly is happening Im leaving up to the imagination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 12:09:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16953741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticallyWriting/pseuds/ChaoticallyWriting
Summary: Steddie and Prompt 29. "I thought you were dead"requested by s-tanleyuris on TumblrEddie reunites with Stan, who was taken by unspecified enemies.





	Steddie - "I thought you were dead."

**Author's Note:**

> Me: Haha I’m not gonna make this angsty  
> This: *Becomes angsty*  
> Me: …Oops

Eddie knew they’d find Stanley.

For weeks he had been hoping- No, he had been  _certain_  that they would find Stan, that they would save him. There was no way the enemy would kill him, he knew too much for them to do that.

They needed him alive, just as much as Eddie did.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But soon enough the seeds of doubt planted themselves in his stomach, and as the weeks turned to months, the seeds grew bigger and bigger. That certainty that he clung to had started to crumble away to desperate hope.

And then the months turned into a year.

And Eddie had just given up hope, when he was told they found him.

_It’s impossible_ , he thought, but the thought didn’t stop him from racing through the compound. The closer he got to the infirmary, the farther away his mind felt; his brain almost didn’t register that he was actually moving, much less the people and corners he almost ran into in his hurry.

His mind didn’t return to him until he was right outside the infirmary doors. Only then did he stop to think.

Could he do this? Who knows what happened to Stan in the past year, what if he wasn’t the same? What if there was nothing left of the Stan he knew? Could Eddie handle that?

Eddie shook the thought away. He waited too long for this to wait any longer. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

The second he saw Stan, he regretted his decision.

Stanley was unconscious on the infirmary bed, hooked up to various machines. An IV in his arm. An oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. A heart monitor, whose steady beeps were the only noise filling the room.

But the machines weren’t the worst of it. The man looked pale and sickly, and while he had always been a bit skinny, he now looked like he hadn’t eaten a full meal in months. On top of that, there were brown and blue bruises scattered about his skin.

They hadn’t killed him, but they certainly put him through hell. The realization made Eddie want to vomit and scream all at the same time.  _How dare they_.

His mind must’ve been leaving him again, because he didn’t remember walking over to Stan’s bedside, but there he was. Up close, Stan looked even worse. Half of Eddie wanted to leave so he didn’t have to see him like this, but the other half knew he couldn’t bring himself to leave his side, not now...

_I’m not leaving_ , he decided to himself,  _not until he at least wakes up._ He grabbed a chair, pulled it to the side of Stan’s bed, and sat down. Staring at Stan, he felt at a loss for what to do next. Stan looked so fragile in the bed, it was almost unnerving to see him like that.

With some hesitation, Eddie reached over and gently Stan’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers. He resisted the urge to give Stan’s hand a small squeeze, for fear that he may hurt him. But this was a start, and he hoped that Stan would at least wake up feeling perhaps the slightest bit reassured that Eddie was there.... Or maybe that was wishful thinking on Eddie’s part, an excuse for himself to hold his hand.

Eddie leaned his head on the arm of the chair, keeping a soft grip on Stan’s hand as he closed his eyes.  _I think I’m allowed a little wishful thinking..._

 

* * *

 

 

“E.... Eddie....?” A hoarse but familiar voice woke Eddie from his slumber, his eyes shooting open and looking to the bed.

Stan’s eyes were still closed, but his eyelids were twitching a bit, just like they always did when he was just waking up. The hand in Eddie’s was now holding him back, albeit weakly. Eddie sat up in his chair, careful not to let go of Stan’s hand. “Yeah, it’s me, Stan. I’m right here....” Eddie quickly reassured, hearing the hints of franticness in his own voice and mentally kicking himself for not sounding calmer. The last thing Stan needed was him being anxious.

His hand weakly squeezed Eddie’s, and Eddie could swear that action alone nearly made him start crying. Stan’s eyes squinted open, then closed again, as if the fluorescent lights of the infirmary hurt. But he opened them again, and this time he looked at Eddie, still groggy with exhaustion and who knows what else. Eddie could imagine he was probably pumped full of painkillers, and he of all people knew suddenly waking up in the infirmary was disorientating at best. He attempted to swallow back the anxiety in his throat, “How do you feel....?”

Stan stared at him for a long moment, and Eddie almost thought he didn’t hear him, until his lips parted and he let out a hoarse whisper, “I thought you were dead....”

Eddie bit back a bitter laugh. Did Stan realize what he looked like? Did he know how long he had been gone? And he thought  _Eddie_  was dead? “....Why....?” He asked.

“Th... That’s what.... They told me.....” Stan struggled to get the sentence out, and all at once it clicked in Eddie’s head.

They had been trying to break Stan in every way possible.

... They tried to break Stan by telling him his lover was dead.

Eddie’s free hand balled up in his lap. God, was he going to make them pay for what they did to Stan.

But for now, he stroked Stan’s hand with his thumb. “I’m okay, Stan, I’m right here....” He stood up and leaned over Stan, gently kissing his forehead. Stan’s hand squeezed his once more, and he could hear his breathing get shaky.

“P... Please.... Stay.....” He whispered, too weak to even cry, though he looked as though he might. Eddie buried his nose in Stan’s curls, raising his other hand to stroke Stan’s cheek as he spoke softly.

“They couldn’t make me leave if they tried.”


End file.
